Luck
by rockinfaerie
Summary: A tragic occurance in Tom Riddle's first year that may have affected him for the worse. Read on as the events unfold...
1. The Adventure Begins

Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling, and the basic framework for this story is taken from "An t-Ádh" by Padraic Ó Conaire.

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**Luck** **

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**

"Wait for me!"

Michael ran towards them, his arms flailing and feet stumbling down the muddy path.

Tom Riddle laughed as Michael landed in the puddle before him with a splash. The hem of Michael's robes had been soaked through and his light blond hair stuck to his forehead. His cheeks were red and Sammy patted him on the back, clearly glad of his late arrival.

It was a cool April day. The sun shone low through the trees, dazzling the three young adventurers as the walked. The path gleamed with morning rain, and birds sang high above their heads.

Tom looked back at the castle, still as foreboding as ever.

"Do you think they'll notice we're gone, Tom?"

Tom sighed. This was the fifth time Sammy had asked him. As first years, they were not allowed to leave the confines of the school grounds. But the bright spring day had drifted through the castle walls, tempting them to come out and enjoy it.

"You know Clarkson's a duffer – he'll never notice!"

Picking up a stick, Tom trailed it along the ground, a thin line forming behind him in the dirt. Their Charms teacher was not of the sharpest sort, and roaming around the school grounds was a far more attractive way to spend two hours than sweating in that classroom, adhering to Clarkson's silly methods.

As they wandered along the forest path, the air grew warmer. The deep blue expanse above them was interrupted by fluffy wisps of white cloud. Insects buzzed in their ears, and every now and then they would run, seeing who would be first to the next stone.

Sammy would still not relax. He continued to remind them of the last time he was caught skipping class. He had received such a beating that day, that he swore he could still feel the pain on his back. His ink-stained hand rubbed it gingerly.

But Tom longed to see Hogsmeade. It was a wizard-only community that he had only read about in books. It seemed that every one of his fortunate classmates had been there at least once, on family trips and holidays. He would visit the shops and restaurants, even though he had no money to spend. He would explore the streets and rows of houses, only so that he could return and say yes, he'd been there too.

Michael had been. He knew the way.

The three friends sauntered past the thick columns of trees. Every now and then, a bowtruckle would eye them carefully. On these occasions, the boys would pick up some crawling woodlice or spiders from the grassy bank and offer their gatherings to the bowtruckle, who would proceed to accept their gifts gratefully.

It seemed they had walked for hours by the time they reached the gate. It towered above them, its ornate black ironworks shining with raindrops. This was the faculty-only exit, covered in ivy. Michael ran forward and pushed it with his freckled arms.

It was locked. A rusty bolt limited their adventure to the well-known school grounds. A high stone wall continued on either side, and Tom knew that any magic they had garnered in their first eight months of schooling would be useless against it.

He climbed the grassy bank, and sat down, trying to maintain an undefeated expression. Even Sammy looked disappointed; his head hung down. The mud on Michael's school robes had dried and he leaned against the wall, picking it off.

Tom sank his hand into the wet grass, and pulled up a fistful. He let it go, a light breeze catching it and taking it away from him on its flying path. The long green stalks then fell, separated onto the path, several feet away.

"What's that?"

Michael pointed to his left, and Tom quickly swung around to see what he was referring to. He followed Michael's finger into the trees. In the shadow, he saw the outline of a large object.

"It's a coach!"

On identifying the immobile Hogwarts method of transport, Tom ran towards it, twigs snapping beneath him. He heard his friends' quick footsteps behind him as he approached it.

Panting, Tom leaned against the cool metal wheel. He surveyed the coach. It had a trailer attached to the back, floating still in mid-air. Tom had grown used to things not always appearing "the muggle way". Nevertheless, he rapidly moved his arm underneath it – just to make sure.

It was too high for any of them to look into, even for Sammy. In their usual way of coping with the height restrictions induced by their eleven-year-old frames, they worked together. Their laughter echoed through the woods as Tom, his foot on Michael's cupped hands, was elevated to the side of the trailer.

Clutching the thin trailer wall for support, Tom looked curiously inside...

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	2. An Escape Route?

Disclaimer: As I said before.

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**An Escape Route?**

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Tom swung his leg up and within seconds was in the trailer. He found himself knee-deep in round sacks, each one shaking slightly. He heard faint purring coming from these bundles, and each one was tied shut with strands of hairy rope. 

"Well Tom, what is it?" Michael asked from below.

Tom bent down and carefully untied the nearest one, unsure of what he would see. The coarse material fell away, unveiling a small, rotund, furry creature. Relieved, Tom smiled.

"It's only a Puffskein! There're loads of sacks here - just of Puffskeins!"

Scared, the revealed Puffskein curled itself into a ball, and Tom reached down to pet it.

Suddenly, Sammy's face appeared at the back of the trailer. It seemed to Tom that he had just grown several feet, but when he looked down he could see that Sammy stood on a wooden crate.

"Give one here!" he demanded as he climbed inside, his hands searching through the soggy puffskein sacks.

A faint smell lingered about the trailer, and Tom's robes were wet from leaning against the metal walls. The little creatures had become happier now – the sacks leaped around, squealing with delight. Sammy ran across the slippery trailer floor, chasing the moving sacks, and Michael laughed as he caught escaping puffskeins on the ground below.

A light breeze flew threw the trees and ruffled the yellow puffskein fur. Cool in the shadow of the woods, the boys had removed their shoes and socks, and now ran barefoot, their robes hoisted above their knees, splashing rainwater at each other.

Some fairies came to watch them – they perched on the twigs of the nearest trunk, and the boys waved jovially.

Lying back in the trailer, Tom stared up at the blue sky through the gaps in the trees. He had never felt so content. The puffskein he held hummed in his ear, and Tom laughed aloud when he felt the soft fur tickling him.

This was so much better than Charms.

With a sharp intake of breath, Tom realised what their new found furry friends were in the trailer for.

Today was Tuesday, and every Tuesday there was a creature market in Hogsmeade. He guessed that Krudge, the school caretaker, was taking the puffskeins to the Hogsmeade market to be sold, and this was the reason the trailer was here, beside the staff gateway.

Tom thought of a plan. Krudge would never allow them into the trailer, so if they were to get to Hogsmeade, they would have to do it by stealth.

This would be their exit route – they would hide in the spare sacks, pretending to be puffskeins, and escape the castle grounds unnoticed – at last, he was going to Hogsmeade!

The others became very enthusiastic as he explained his plan, and they proceeded to tidy up the trailer, in case Krudge noticed things weren't as they should be. But hidden in sacks, Krudge would never notice them…


	3. An Antagonising Factor

Disclaimer: As I said before.

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**An Antagonising Factor**

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Tom hastened to lift the heavy, empty sacks from the trailer floor. He hoisted one up around his knees, demonstrating how they would go about pretending to be puffskeins.

"Just stay quiet and Krudge won't notice a thing!"

Michael had climbed up and laughing, chose a sack of his own, hopping around the trailer with a thump-thump sound as if participating in a sack race. A bee flew past his ear and he flailed at it, leaving the right side of his sack to fall. Sammy wondered when Krudge would be back.

Each boy quickly covered themselves with their respective sacks lest he should come and find them playing there.

It was cosy, lying there, listening to Michael's giggles beside him. Tom was crouched on all fours, in his surprisingly comfortable sack. He peeked out and saw Sammy grinning at him from across the trailer, his crooked teeth peeking out from under his stretched lips. Tom waved at him.

He thought about what it would be like in Hogsmeade – they would look at shop fronts and explore shops, and perhaps Sammy would buy him something – something small. He had grown quite thirsty, and thought about the cool drink he could get at the village fountain. He wished Krudge would hurry up.

He heard a clunking noise beside him. It was Michael – he was getting up.

"Don't do that – we'll be seen!" Tom hissed, reaching out of his sack to pull Michael back down by his muddy robes.

"He won't be here for another while Tom," said Michael, his freckled hand swatting Tom's away. "And anyway, I've just realised something…"

Tom stood up, the harsh sack material crumpling around his bare feet. He looked at Michael in annoyance – trust Michael to point out a flaw in his plan. Sammy had gotten up too, but he still had his sack pulled about his shoulders. He had begun to shiver slightly – his robes had become wet from lying down.

Sammy looked at Michael questioningly – all previous apprehensions about that day's adventure had been abandoned, and he looked positively furious at Michael's insistence that he should interrupt.

"What is it, Michael?" asked Sammy, slouching over him, his arms crossed.

Michael stared back at the other two defiantly, "I've just realised that Krudge – you know what he's like – he'll know there're three extra puffskeins in the coach!"

As weary as Tom was of the fact that Michael had already been to Hogsmeade and therefore was not as eager to go for a second time, he had to admit that he saw his point. Krudge was an extremely exact man, his timetable down to the last second. He could spot dirt a mile away, and Tom knew he would notice three extra bundles in his trailer.

Sammy spoke up quietly, "Then someone will have to stay behind." Both other boys looked at him, devastated. "Someone will have to stay and tell Krudge that there are two extra puffskeins on board…"

Tom felt sorry that Sammy would have to stay, but he was the one who didn't want to go in the first place. Sammy's ears were red from speaking out of turn, and he looked quite awkward, just standing there a head taller than his friends. Splotches of light filtered through the leaves above them casting a golden sheen on his light brown hair. His tie was a miserable knot at the base of his neck, and Tom wondered if he had been taught how to tie it properly. Sammy looked quickly back at the path, to make sure no-one was coming. Tom stepped forward.

"So, Sammy you'll tell Krudge, and Michael and I will -" but he was immediately interrupted by Sammy.

"I'm not staying behind! Michael should – he's already gone before!"

Michael glared at him menacingly, his blond hair lifting up in the breeze. But Sammy – as shy as he was – did not quell under his angry gaze.

"I mean it. I'm going and that's final." He towered over Michael, and his lips trembled around his askew teeth.

Tom watched this development, frowning. He was not sure who he wanted to take. Michael had been before, and it would be unfair to leave Sammy behind, but Sammy could be such a scaredy-cat. Sammy would never be up for some mountain climbing –Tom had heard there were caves up there and he couldn't wait to visit them.

Michael had pushed Sammy angrily away. The surrounding puffskeins shook in surprise, and Tom realised that he would have to make a decision right away, as Krudge would arrive soon.

He took a quick glance at the path, but it was still mercifully empty.

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End file.
